the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Wonder Woman

So I’m standing there in the kitchen totally craving something sweet after a lunch of leftover spaghetti (which didn’t even make a dent in the amount still left in the gigantic Pyrex container in the fridge — I’m fully incapable of making pasta for two people, or for five or ten; it always comes out in portions big enough to feed the entire population of Rhode Island), and I reach up into the cabinet to grab a small tub of chocolate pudding. And whenever I reach up above my head to grab something I automatically and involuntarily wince at what I’m going to send toppling down on top of my head. But somehow, this time, I manage to locate a pudding and to pull it down successfully, completely by itself with no accompanying cans of black beans or chicken broth. And I’m feeling really good about myself, particularly because this means I might get to go an entire day without a bruise or tin can-shaped gash on my forehead, and I reach for a spoon in the drawer directly in front of me. Again, I cringe at the possibility of mashed fingers or the tragedy of the entire drawer collapsing in a thunderous bang on the linoleum, so I reach slowly and steadily for the closest spoon. Miraculously I bring it above the countertop witout drama or trumpeting soundtrack of impending doom, and then BOOM, it wriggles its way out of my fingers and heads straight for my delicate, innocent toes. And through some unknown power or perhaps an adult-onset instinct I somehow move my foot out of the way before the spoon has any chance to dent or maim me. And I can’t believe my utter luck, and I start to think that I’m pretty cool, what with my cat-like reflexes and ability to open drawers safely. And then I start to smile, because this is just too wonderful, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe I was a superhero in a past life, a tall superhero with gigantic proportions, red boots and underwear covered in stars, yes; a superhero who could run through an entire burning building to save a cat in danger, all without stubbing her toes on any threshold or protruding piece of furniture. And just as I’m going over scenarios in my head about the lives I saved in this past life, lives and fortunes and little babies about to be gobbled up by fang-wielding monsters, I turn around with my pudding and spoon in hand and immediately walk head first into a doorframe.

  • aibee

    2003/06/06 at 5:08 pm

    Does anyone else wonder what happened to the pudding?

  • eddeauc

    2003/06/06 at 5:25 pm

    Ha! everyone clammers to be like dooce- I hit my head, I got hit by a car! Ooh me! me!

    I must admit, I am right there with them.

  • EC

    2003/06/06 at 5:33 pm

    Stay out of the kitchen.

  • Raymond

    2003/06/06 at 6:13 pm

    Well you got my vote for the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Say hi to Ms. Harker for me. 😉

  • Marc

    2003/06/06 at 6:26 pm

    Utter “fack” and your instantly Cadbury the butler to me. Bellow “fook” and you’re ready for the cast of “Trainspotting, the weblog”. A staccato “foak-eeng” and I’m transported to the passenger seat of a metro cab. Sigh a “fawww…” and you sound like me a good ten times a day.

  • Kimberly

    2003/06/06 at 7:04 pm

    that’s me every day of the week, if it will bruise me I manage to hit it… thanks again for the laugh out loud reality shared by many!

  • Pat

    2003/06/06 at 7:18 pm

    heather you have my symathy about the wall but what happened to the pudding? america whats to know ok maybe just me please tell me you didn’t drop it after what you went through to get it oh bye the bye isn’t mormon tabernacle choir greatest hits a contradiction ?

  • Super Kyle

    2003/06/06 at 7:43 pm

    I think I am a three year old super hero. I like to think of myself as Spider Man, green man (Hulk), or a Pirate, “Argh!” My body is covered in proof. Today, in fact, as I climbed up the cupboard to get the play-dough my Mommy hid from me, I opened the drawer only to have the humidifier slam into my nose and my leg. Ouch! –(I miss you guys and my friend, Chuck.)

  • Doorframe

    2003/06/06 at 11:07 pm

    Nobody pays any attention to all those poor doorframes that constantly get smacked into. Not even a sorry. Even a pudding gets more attention.

  • Phil

    2003/06/06 at 11:27 pm

    Doocey Manilow.

  • Kevynn Malone

    2003/06/07 at 2:30 am

    Phil? That’s funny.

  • lexi

    2003/06/07 at 5:37 am

    Its so ironic isnt it? Usually when I’m not thinking about the pans falling on my head when i reach for something they never fall, but the minute I start to worry about them falling they do, and if they don’t boy do you feel like you accomplished something, yep I know that feeling, I get it every day, but the sad part is, when you start to relax and start telling your self that your getting the hang of this and bam! something else happens, just like when you slammed into the door frame

  • bushra

    2003/06/07 at 8:09 am

    do i take this comment box opportunity and harp on about my accident prone life, or do i go see the chocolate fudge cake in the fridge?


  • Carla Beth

    2003/06/07 at 2:56 pm

    NOT worth the battle. Chocolate ALWAYS wins. Have mouth, will consume chocolate ad infinitum.

  • Kristine

    2003/06/07 at 4:54 pm

    Um, could I suggest keeping cans/pans/etc. in a bottom cupboard? Put the cold cereal in those high cupboards — it doesn’t hurt when Rice Krispies fall on your head.

  • elisheva

    2003/06/07 at 7:23 pm

    actually, cereal boxes can be painful too, especially if the corner falls precisely at that spot between the pinky and 4th toe. Ouch! Then, obviously, I have to stand up and get whacked by the top of the cupboard door. Top shelves are safer because I need a chair to reach them, but the freezer can be dangerous to open. I’ve had chicken fall on my toes one too many times to trust that thing.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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